


"Because...because...because I love you!"

by NermallovesAbuDhabi



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kissing, Love, M/M, Marriage, Multi, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24074803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NermallovesAbuDhabi/pseuds/NermallovesAbuDhabi
Summary: The night before the barricade battle, Enjolras gets the shock of his life- could this change everything?“I stayed for YOU, you utter moron! You’ve asked me many times why I call you Apollo. Well, here it is! I call you Apollo because you have the face and voice of an angel that people will follow. It’s your voice that makes me believe that anything is possible. I’d crawl to Hades and back if it would make you look at me as something other than a drunken waste of space! I see how you look at me- like I’m not worthy of your notice, the scum you’d rather wipe off of your shoes. I stay because… because… because I love you!” It comes out all in one go and he sputters to a stop. He stands there looking at me wide-eyed and slightly horrified as if he can’t believe that he’s just been so honest with me and what he’s just confessed.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Kudos: 11





	"Because...because...because I love you!"

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at fan-fic, so please be kind in your critiques.
> 
> I broke canon slightly in that I swapped over the skin and hair colours for our main characters.  
> I did this after falling in love with the relationship between them portrayed in the 25th Anniversary DVD and I couldn't imagine this any other way afterward.
> 
> *spoiler* Jehan is not dead. I couldn't bear to have a character death happen during the main part of the story (since many versions have the same demise for them but at different times.)

As I look back years later on those 24 hours where my world turned upside down, I can’t help wondering about how different things could have turned out. If Gavroche hadn’t defied my orders and gone reconnoitering and found out the truth? If I hadn’t learned to listen to what my heart was telling me all along? We would probably all be dead (hang on, they’re stirring. Be right back).  
  
Oh yes, where was I? As I look upon the prone figure lying next to me in sleep (at least I hope it’s sleep this time and not another one of those things Joly described as a “night terror”), I can’t help but think back to that night, when we were all preparing ourselves for the battle ahead and how my life irrevocably turned on its head. That wretched, cheerful drinking song that started it all keeps running through my head, hence why I’m not sleeping, so I figured now was as good a time as any to finally get my thoughts onto parchment. Especially as the anniversary rolls around and neither of us are sleeping properly. (Them- because of the nightmares. Me- worry for them, guilt over what caused it? I don’t know, take your pick. I have far too many thoughts in my head.)  
The band on my finger catches the light and I smile, remembering the easy part of that night.  
  
Right- where to begin…We’d declared war on the Army after hearing of the illness and death of General Lamarque- the only man who seemed to care for the less fortunate members of society, built a barricade on the Rue de Vallette and we’d just lost Éponine as she got shot while she was climbing back into the barricade from near the café, having been on a secret errand for Marius. Why she thought it was a smart idea to try to come back during the hours of darkness, I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand. Perhaps her love for Marius was stronger than anyone (even him) ever imagined and was worth more to her than her own life was.  
  
I digress, reader, as I’m sure you’re anxious for me to continue with the tale.  
  
We’d just lost Éponine and sang a lament for her. We pledged as a group that she would not die in vain. I was so determined that we would win this battle with arms since words had stopped being effective with the death of Lamarque, and the people would rise up from their apathetic stupor and join us to make France, and then the world truly free. After a brief skirmish with the Army and handing over the traitor Javert to someone with a grudge against him to be executed, we sent Marius off to rest and I told Gavroche to go and sleep as he was unaccountably weepy and weary (we would only learn later about his connection to Éponine, which then explained a lot of his later actions), with orders to stay there until morning as there was a task only he could accomplish. The rest of us settled in for the rest of the evening, most of us sat on the floor of the café, now minus its’ furniture, as we’d used everything that could be moved to go onto the barricade.

Ah, good. They’re singing again. Something cheerier this time. Yes, this is acceptable. I stand up to stretch my legs for a bit as they’ve gone to sleep with being sat down for so long. Ah, feeling in my feet again. Oh! Grantaire’s left his spot leaning against the nearest pillar and picked up the song (hmm, he’s actually got a pretty good voice, despite his alcohol consumption of late). …No…. Grantaire…What are you doing? I need them happy, not miserable! The others are starting to look slightly nervous about what he’s singing as it sounds so pessimistic and morbid, so I turn to glare at him.  
It’s almost as if he hears my inner monologue, and, looking around and seeing me glaring at him, looking more disheveled than I’ve ever seen him- his blonde curls looking closer to wavy and sticking out everywhere on his head, he stops singing and the song goes on without us being aware of it. He turns and reaches out towards me with his left hand, which seems to hover on its’ own for a moment, unsure of its final destination. He looks as though he wants to touch my face, (which is a completely irrational thought that pops into my brain) but he eventually settles for placing it on my shoulder. He squeezes it once, then, meandering around slightly, he walks off out of the café via the rear door, wine bottle still in hand- where did that bottle appear from? I thought we’d got rid of all the wine earlier on!  
  
Furious with him for his stunt, I storm out of the café after him, ready for the argument that’s been brewing between us for hours. We seem to do nothing but argue at the moment and I don’t get why. Finding him in the alleyway, I call out to him-  
“Grantaire- wait!” He half turns back towards me, staggering slightly- just how much has he had to drink today?  
“What Apollo?” There’s that nickname again- why does he use that cursèd nickname for me?  
“Why would you start singing if all you are going to do is be a complete and utter pessimist and bring them all down? I need them happy, docile, and optimistic! Not wallowing in misery, unsure of themselves and confused!”  
“I don’t know, Enjolras?” Sardonic and sarcastic as ever, Grantaire replies “maybe because we’re all going to be dead within the next twenty-four hours? Why wouldn’t I bring a dose of reality to the situation? We’ve just lost Éponine, we’ve been betrayed and shot at and you’re still talking like we can win this thing, like the bulk of the army that’s waiting for the morning to arrive, isn’t just going to slaughter each and every one of us on sight without a trace of mercy!”  
“You don’t know that Grantaire. Have a little faith, courage, and belief in our cause.”  
I challenge him, but I don’t even get to finish the sentence, because he turns fully towards me, his blue eyes suddenly looking full of anger. He stands up straight looking suddenly very powerful.  
“Hang the cause! I couldn’t give two figs for your precious cause. If you gave it up right now and told them all to go home, I’d be as happy as a pig in mud.” He shouts it at me. I flinch and stand there staring at him, not wanting to believe what he’s just said.

“Hang… the cause?” I repeat. I’m confused. “If the cause isn’t important to you, then why did you keep coming back to all the meetings? To help us gather all the things we needed? The weapons and ammunition? The support from the people? Why are you still here?” I pepper him with questions, practically begging for him to answer me coherently.  
“I stayed for YOU, you utter moron! You’ve asked me many times why I call you Apollo. Well, here it is! I call you Apollo because you have the face and voice of an angel that people will follow. It’s your voice that makes me believe that anything is possible. I’d crawl to Hades and back if it would make you look at me as something other than a drunken waste of space! I see how you look at me- like I’m not worthy of your notice, the scum you’d rather wipe off of your shoes. I stay because… because… because I love you!” It comes out all in one go and he sputters to a stop. He stands there looking at me wide-eyed and slightly horrified as if he can’t believe that he’s just been so honest with me and what he’s just confessed.  
“Oh….” that stopped me in my tracks, my next thought going completely blank on me. Knocks me back a step away from him. Did he just say what I thought he just said?  
“You… love me?” I repeat his last statement as I step slowly back towards him.  
“Yes. I can’t bear to hide it from you anymore, but, we’re all going to die anyway, so I might as well tell you. I know you don’t feel that way about me- about anyone even. I can see it written all over your face” he replies, sighing deeply as he finishes.  
My face…. What does that reflect? I think I’m in shock. Grantaire loves me? How is that possible? I thought he was only interested in women! How did I never notice that he craved more than friendship from me? Deep feelings suddenly start bubbling away within me- feelings I don’t understand. He’s stood there staring at me as if I’m an alien being.  
He turns to walk away from me, shaking his head as if to erase the things he’s just said, to forget the bombshell he’s just landed at my feet.

Before my brain can compose a rational thought, my hand reaches out and grabs his wrist. I don’t want him to walk away, we’re not done talking about this. The momentum of me pulling on his arm swings him back towards me and we end up nose to nose and the bottle he’s holding falls to the floor. It smashes on the ground, but neither of us hears it. God he stinks of alcohol, both of the stuff he’s been drinking for hours and stale, sour stuff. How have I never realised that we’re exactly the same height? His eyes, while bleary with the sense of being completely drunk, stare right back at my brown ones.  
“I don’t think you’re a waste of space” I utter, transfixed by the piercing blue of his eyes. Where did that inane sentence pop up from?  
Before I can quite compose my next thought, his lips press against mine. Just that. Soft lips that taste of red wine, pressing against my lips. It’s almost like my brain short circuits. Grantaire is kissing me. What is going on? He pulls back from me ever so slightly, looking almost shy and embarrassed for once in his life and what skin on his face I can see amongst the stubble and grime is flushed.  
“Really, Grantaire? Why?” All I can think of to say to him is that? Really, Enjolras?  
“Because I couldn’t bear not to. I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages, but never had the courage before” he replies softly.  
Argh. Now, what do I do with that? We’re still stood nose to nose, my hand around his right wrist, my right hand hanging loose. I have this compulsive urge to touch his cheek, but I resist it- we are in public after all. Decision time Enjolras- walk away and let him continue to get drunk, or get him sober enough to have a proper conversation and see if you can… what? My brain is struggling to think clearly. It’s almost as if I’m as drunk as he is, but that’s impossible, as I’ve not been drinking anything remotely alcoholic- I’ve been far too busy for that.  
“Come with me.” The simple statement pops out of my mouth unbidden as if my body has made the decision for me without my brains’ input.  
“Where? Why?” Now he’s as confused as I am.  
“We’re going to get you cleaned up, so we can talk properly. As for where; it’s a place I keep that no one else knows about.” Ok, rational thoughts resume. We need to get him sober. We can talk this out…whatever THIS is.  
“What would that achieve?” He’s wallowing again.  
“Because I want to understand where these feelings are coming from- and I’m not just talking about yours” I reply rather irritably.  
“Oh… oh!” he replies, perking up a bit at the last couple of words. He somewhat reminds me of a pirate with a leer when he looks at me like this.

We carefully wind our way through the empty streets to one of my private hidey-hole houses. Where I go to reflect and recharge when I need to get away from my responsibilities of being in charge of our little social justice movement. Unlocking the door, I pull him in, almost bodily as he’s now wobbling profusely because the copious amounts of alcohol he seems to have drunk all appear to hit him at once. Quietly shutting the door behind us, I point him in the direction of the washroom off to his right.  
“There’s a washroom in there- complete with towels. Get yourself cleaned up and we’ll talk” I tell him, almost shoving him in the correct direction.  
“Err…. Ok.” A semi-bleary response, but a response nonetheless.  
He staggers off into the washroom, only hitting the doorframe once, now decidedly worse for wear. I hear the water turn on and the door close, so I leave him to it and wander off into the living area to get rid of my outer layers of clothing as I’m suddenly rather warm. Standing there in my undershirt and trousers, my fingers play idly with the rings on my necklet, the only sentimental trinkets from my family that I’ve kept.  
How did it end up like this? Grantaire is in love with me? How is this possible? What do I do with this knowledge? How do I feel about this? Is it possible that I could ever return his feelings?  
Without realising it, I wander into the bedroom and to the window looking out towards the barricade. Fifteen minutes pass by while I’m deliberating what to do and how to start the conversation we need to have. Am I gay? Am I not? What’s wrong with me- why can’t I concentrate on anything? I genuinely can’t work out what I am. I always assumed I was attracted to women, but the few encounters I had ever experienced were nothing to write home about, being as nothing ever happened. The only real relationship I had managed to have ended in disaster for me. Being attracted to men was something I had never considered. I’m so confused. Everything was mapped out in my head about the next few days and this has completely derailed my thought process.

The washroom door opens and closes softly and footsteps head my way. I hadn’t even heard the water turn off. I look around to find him standing in the bedroom doorway wearing a towel around his waist. And only a towel. And it doesn’t quite fit around him, so he’s having to hold it closed at his side. He looks incredibly in shape. How did I not know he’d been working out?  
Ummm… yes. A lump starts to build up in my throat and I can’t quite dislodge it. He grins at me, looking somewhat more steady and sober than before his shower. He’s shaved too, as there’s no trace of the stubble that he’s been sporting for the past week. I wonder if his hair is the same colour everywhere? Don’t go there, Enjolras! That’s not a good thought to be having right now!  
All thoughts of rational conversation flee from my mind as I stare at him.  
“Like what you see?” He interrupts my inner monologue- almost as if he can see what I’m thinking. Gulp. The lump moves but doesn’t go anywhere.  
Feelings I can’t describe well up within me and I’m rooted to the spot, mouth now gaping at him. His slender body gleams like marble in the moonlight. His skin looks so soft, yet with a body so strong at the same time. Something in me longs to reach out and touch him, but I can’t make my legs move, although my hands clench and unclench at my sides. He walks towards me, hand carefully holding the towel closed.  
“Enjolras, please… say something… say anything” he practically begs me to give him an answer.  
How can I possibly say anything? My mouth is bone dry. He’s now back nose to nose with me, smelling far less of alcohol and very much more like my soap. It’s a heady combination of smells that I’m struggling to resist. Suddenly I can’t stop myself and I reach out and touch his cheek with my hand. It’s so soft, still slightly damp and smooth from where he’s shaved. His eyes half shut and a small moan escapes through his lips. Who knew I had that kind of power over someone physically?  
Time’s up Enjolras, make a decision already. Walk away or find out for sure.

“I want to kiss you,” I say simply. Softly, hesitantly, I lean towards him now. My now bone-dry lips press against his. A small whimper escapes. Ok, that wasn’t too bad, no freakouts from either of us. I pull back and see his eyes are now shut, but his lashes sparkle with tears not yet shed and his cheeks have a rosy flush. I lick my lips and press my lips to his again. Another whimper, louder this time and I quickly realise that it’s me whimpering. His lips start to move against mine, gently at first with no pressure, then very slowly, starts to build. I’m helpless right now. I think Grantaire understands, as he takes control of the dynamic now. His right-hand reaches up to my cheek, then to my hair, gently tangling his fingers in it, while continuing to gently kiss my lips. Some of his loose blonde curls are now starting to spring back to life and I just want to wrap my fingers in them.  
“Touch me” he breathes against my mouth in between the kisses.  
“How? I don’t know how!” I breathe back at him. I’m completely lost in this alien situation. I’m so used to knowing what to do, that this feeling of being out of control scares me.  
He suddenly moves back a few paces and my entire body instantly aches for him to be back closer. This is weird. A strange sensation in my groin that I’ve never felt before starts to build. I’m even more confused by this. I look down slightly, incredibly surprised to see that I’m having a physical reaction. My first ever physical reaction to someone and it’s for Grantaire. Not only that, but Grantaire is having the same physical reaction as well, as I see a bulge in the towel right at his crotch area. My hand gently touches the bulge over my trousers and I gasp aloud. Yep. Definitely a physical reaction. Ummm… Help? What do I do? Why Grantaire and not any of our other friends? I guess this must mean that… I’m gay? But he’s having the same reaction too!? What does this all mean?

“Do you mean to say that you’ve never...?” He breathlessly answers my question with one of his own.  
A shake of my head has him gaping this time. “Not even with a woman? We all thought you’d slept with that woman we set you up with?” He asks incredulously.  
Another shake of my head. “No. I paid her handsomely to say that we’d done…it, just to get you guys off of my back about the whole thing. We just sat and talked for an hour.” I blush with shame at having to confess this. I thought I’d get away with that one forever. He seems slightly stunned by this. That I would pay someone to lie to my friends rather than admit the truth.  
“Oh… in which case, there’s something that I definitely need to tell you before we go any further,” he says hesitantly, after a few minutes pause.  
What could Grantaire possibly have to tell me? I’m the one with no experience whatsoever!

“I’m gay” he blurts out. “The others have always thought that I’m only attracted to women, and it’s something I’ve encouraged as it means I’ve been able to hide my feelings for you. I can feign “interest” long enough to give a woman pleasure, but I’m really only attracted to men. I’ve had sex with men before as well, but I’ve always ventured far enough away from our usual stomping grounds to where I won’t be recognised by anyone, to where I can find a man who’s willing to be used by me. I’ve known that I’m gay for a few years now, but I’ve been too ashamed to admit it to everyone, especially considering the teasing I gave Combeferre and Courfeyrac when they came out as being gay and being together. I’ve never felt able to say the words “I’m gay” out loud before, let alone to anyone else. You’re the only person that knows.” He falteringly confesses everything, including the revelation of who he truly is and he seems to breathe a sigh of relief afterward, although his face flushes red.  
A look of surprise passes over my face and he is now crimson with embarrassment. I can appreciate why he’s embarrassed. He’s teased his friends, somewhat mercilessly at times, for something he actually is. His brash demeanour in public, especially around Combeferre and Courfeyrac, now makes a whole lot more sense to me.  
“Wow…Thank you for being brave enough to tell me. I guess that makes two of us then. Being gay, I mean” I reply after a few moments. Gay- the first time I’ve said it aloud about myself. I feel a sense of peace for once in my life. I’m gay.  
He turns and walks away from me. Have I just ruined everything? I hear a rustle of fabric and turn back to the window to hide my shame and panic at not having a clue what I’m doing. I’m wrong-footing myself so much and I can’t seem to stop myself doing it.  
His hand suddenly lands on my shoulder and turns me around. I’m enveloped by the strongest, yet gentlest hug I’ve ever had before. My head falls onto his shoulder and I take a few moments to just be, relaxing into his body, enjoying the hug, and embracing who we both truly are. His arms feel so strong around me and it feels natural to be held by him. Eventually, he takes a step back and I realise that although his bulge is still there, he’s put some underwear on. I must look confused and slightly disappointed, as I get a grin out of him and a chuckle as he responds.  
“Don’t worry, I’m just slowing things down a bit. I’d no idea you were so innocent. I want us to take this slowly. Besides, I need both hands for this, and I didn’t want to freak you out by just dropping the towel.” Gulp. The mental image of him minus the towel makes me suddenly feel very warm and I shudder in spite of myself.  
He steps back towards me, more confident in himself, but gentle at the same time- as if he expects me to try and bolt at any moment.  
“Shh… you’re thinking too hard. I can see it in your face. Just close your eyes and try to relax.”  
Ok… I can do that. Closing my eyes is easy. Relaxing, less so. I don’t when the last time was that I was truly relaxed.  
I feel his hands lightly touch my own, then he gently runs them up my bare arms to my neck. I can’t suppress the shudder of pleasure that runs through me, nor the gasp that escapes from my throat and out of my mouth before I can think to stop it.

“What’s with the rings? I’ve not seen them before.” He asks rather suddenly as he lightly pulls the necklet up slightly from on top of my undershirt, unconsciously mirroring my earlier fiddling. Of course he’s not seen them before. No one has. I keep them well hidden as I don’t like talking about my past.  
“Sentimental keepsakes.” Opening my eyes to see him looking at the rings, I mumble, then explain “they were my Grandparent's wedding rings. When they passed away, my parents gave them to me, hoping I would propose to my girlfriend as they’re desperate for me to give them grandchildren. The problem for them was, the girlfriend was nice, but to me, she seemed as dull as dishwater and I just wasn’t attracted to her. She worked this out quickly and dumped me not long afterward. I believe she ended up marrying a policeman.”  
“Her loss, and your parents too.” Huh- the last thing I expected him to say. I assume I looked rather oddly back at him as he shrugs his shoulders at me and continues “any person would be thrilled to have you to themselves when you look as stunningly handsome as you do.” My face is scarlet with the compliment.  
“I’m not all that special Grantaire, I’m just a regular man” I reply, shaking my head at him. Some of my brown hair gradually falls down into my eyes as I speak. His free hand reaches up to tuck it behind my ear and leaves his hand gently holding my cheek. The simplicity of the gesture makes my heart squeeze and my breath hitch slightly.  
“A man that people follow” he replies softly. “A man that I’d follow to the ends of the earth to have you to myself. I fell in love with you within weeks of knowing you. First for the fact that you look gorgeous and God-like, then your passion and drive to make the world a better place- despite me arguing with you every step of the way, poking holes in all of your arguments” he confesses quietly.  
“How did your parents take the news?” He asks abruptly, after a minute’s pause. Slightly stunned at the sudden turn of questioning, I stop and think for a moment.  
“Stoically, I think” I start. “They’ve not given up hope of getting grandchildren out of me eventually, though. Being physically attracted to someone was never something that I got the concept of while growing up. I now understand why I was never attracted to any woman though, even as a teenager when hormones are supposed to go wild. My parents’ plan has always been for me to find a woman, settle down, get married, and have children, but that’s out of the question now. I refuse to condemn a woman to married life with me when I now know that there’s no way I’ll be able to give her children because I can’t get “interested” enough to sleep with her. It wouldn’t be fair on her.”  
I pause for breath before confessing, not able to look him square in the face “the stuff you guys all laugh and joke about and the stories you tell about your “nocturnal activities” at the café; I’ve never had an experience like it because I’ve never been able to make my body “interested” in having an experience with anyone before tonight, man or woman. You’re the only person I’ve ever had a reaction like this for.”  
“Oh!” He sounds slightly perplexed for a moment.

We stand there in silence for a minute or two. The ramifications of everything we’ve said weighing on our minds. His hand’s still fiddling with the necklet, mine trembling at my sides. I can almost hear him processing all of this and thinking of how to respond. I dare not move for fear of him walking away from me and my heart is beating violently in my chest and I’m aching for him to touch me. I want to yell and shake him to make him talk. I close my eyes so that I don’t have to see him reject me and the thought of this is too much to bear.

“So what do you plan to do with the rings now then, since you won’t use them for their original purpose?” He asks somewhat nervously.  
My eyes open with an almost audible popping noise and my head jerks back up to look at him. He’s looking back at me with a weird expression on his face, almost like he’s desperate for me to allow him permission to try one of them on, even briefly. He flushes violently as he comprehends my understanding of his question. My heart feels like it slams into my throat as I realise the possibilities opening up before us. My heart swells with emotions that I can’t pin down as I look at him. Realisation dawns on me of how much I want him in my arms right now. An image comes to mind unbidden of the two of us entwined, his marble coloured body wrapped around my golden one, his blonde hair right next to my dark brown, just like in one of the stories Grantaire has told at the café. My stomach flips over and there’s a throb in the bulge at my crotch that makes me acutely aware that this is what my body wants. No one else has ever had this kind of emotional power over me.  
Big decision time, Enjolras- condemn yourself to involuntary celibacy for the rest of your life and let him walk away to go and get blind drunk again, or take a chance at having some form of happiness. A heartbeat is all it takes to make the decision. It’s surprisingly easy, for once in my life. I want him. And not just for tonight either. I want him with me forever.  
I’m standing there staring at him. I want him to understand the depth of feelings that I’m experiencing, but I can’t get any words to come out of my mouth, so I settle for actions instead.

My fingers tremble slightly as I reach behind me to undo the knot holding the necklet in place. My eyes hold his gaze and the tension in the air is palpable, it’s almost thick enough to be sliceable. There, got it. Knot undone, I slide the necklet from me, catching the rings as they slide off. They feel warm and heavy in my hand. I look down at them, rather puzzled by this as they should be light as a feather, as they have been ever since I put them on the necklet a few years previously.  
One deep breath in and out to steady my nerves. I look back up to him to see his eyes looking back at me, slightly dazed and puzzled, yet interested in what I’m about to say. They’re hypnotic, I could stand there looking at them forever. Here goes nothing.

“I want to be with you Grantaire if you’ll have me? I want you to wear one of the rings. I want to pledge myself to you, right here and now.” There, I’ve said it. Exhaling, I wait for his response.  
He blinks at me as if he doesn’t understand what I’ve just said. “What? Pledge yourself. Do you mean marriage? To me? Enjolras, do you really understand the consequences of that?” He starts speaking slowly but ends up almost squeaking the last question as it dawns on him that I’ve just proposed to him.  
“Yes, Grantaire. You. I don’t want whatever happens between us tonight to be a one-time thing, then forget all about it tomorrow. I want be with you forever. I understand the consequences of this. I know we’d never be able to formally announce it to the world, but in the end, who cares? Our friends will understand and be happy for us, I’m sure. We don’t need a priest, just us. I’ve never had a reaction to anyone else like I’m having with you right now and I don’t want to waste any more of my life waiting for “the perfect woman” to come along, just to please my parents. I know it’s impulsive, but when have you ever known me not to be when I’ve decided what I want? I want this. I want us. I want to marry you.” The whole lot comes out in one breath as I release years of pent up emotion I didn’t know I had. Breathing heavily, perilously close to tears and trembling violently, I look closely at his face. His cheeks are flushed, but his eyes sparkle at me. They look like the colour of the Mediterranean sea.  
“Are you absolutely certain about this? I don’t want you to regret this further down the road. A night of sex is one thing; marriage is another thing altogether” he replies. He’s giving me the opportunity to take it all back? That’s not possible anymore. I’m through with being someone that I’m clearly not. My mind’s made up. It’s him or nothing.  
“I’m certain. Grantaire, will you marry me?” Blunt and to the point, I ask him again.  
Now he’s the one who briefly hesitates. Clearly this is a monumental decision for him that will have lasting consequences for us.  
“Yes. I’ll marry you.” His voices wobbles slightly as he responds. Right. Ok.

His forehead drops to mine and we stand there for a few moments, not moving, just silently processing what we’re about to say and do. “Did you want to do the whole vows thing or just pop the rings on and be done with it?” He asks eventually, rather quietly.  
“Why not do the vows? It’s not like we don’t know them well enough. We can adapt it as we have no witnesses here” I reply, as my mind starts racing through all the variants I’ve heard over the years, changing bits to make them suitable for us.  
“Ok. You’ll need to go first then. I can easily repeat what you say that way. Words have never been my thing.” He flushes as he replies as if embarrassed to admit his weakness to me.  
“I know, but no one can beat you when it comes to any form of artistry.” A shy grin meets my compliment of his skills and we both chuckle, partly nerves and partly something much deeper.

Deep breath. Now to say the words that will bind us together for eternity. I close my eyes, then open them, and I see him looking at me with a look of such tenderness that it makes me shiver. Lips trembling slightly, I speak  
“I Enjolras, take you Grantaire, to be my husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish, till death parts us. According to the Holy law, I pledge myself solely to you. Please accept this ring as a symbol of my love, honour, and fidelity.” I take his hand and slip the slightly larger of the two bands onto his finger. It’s a perfect fit.  
Grantaire looks slightly shy and nervous as he starts to speak  
“I Grantaire, take you Enjolras, to be my husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish, till death parts us. According to the Holy law, I pledge myself solely to you. Please accept this ring as a symbol of my love, honour, and fidelity.” He takes the remaining band from my upturned palm and slips it onto my finger. Yet another perfect fit. We both take a very deep breath, then lean towards each other, lips tentatively brushing together. That’s it. Vows exchanged. We’re married.

Sparks fly in my head as his arms suddenly wrap themselves around me, pulling me against his body and he kisses me deeply and passionately. His lips begin a rhythm that mine copy almost instinctively. His tongue gently pokes out and touches my lips, which causes me to gasp and open my mouth. He wastes no opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth and his tongue gently starts to explore the insides very thoroughly. His hands, meanwhile have started to caress my body gently, gliding from my waist to my shoulders and back again, as if he senses my nervousness. My hands are shaking as they move from where they got wedged at his sides up to his face. With a sucking motion, he pulls my tongue into his mouth. Oh my God, this feels incredible! I imitate his actions as best I can, which causes a mutual groan to come from both of us.

I suddenly stop as I get what feels like an electric shock. His hands have moved from my back and have travelled to my front. He’s managed to get his hands underneath my undershirt and is running his hands up my chest to my suddenly very sensitive nipples. His hands, although calloused from years of drawing and painting, feel surprisingly soft against my skin. My head rolls back as I get another (very) pleasurable shudder and his lips are suddenly at the base of my neck. He lightly kisses my neck at the pulse point, then lightly sucks on the smooth skin there. That’s going to leave a mark.

“Lose the shirt, husband” he begs. Husband. That gets a moan from both of us. “I want to taste your body.”  
As I slowly disentangle myself from him and pull my undershirt over my head, he waits patiently, taking the time to admire what he can see of me.  
We’ve been standing this whole time and as I catch his eyes now looking somewhat lustfully at me, my legs suddenly go to jelly. He catches me before I hit the floor and guides me backwards towards my bed. He spreads my legs wide enough so that he can kneel between them in front of me and so that he can see my now bare chest. “Your body looks gorgeous. Golden and soft, just like I thought it would be” he breathes in awe. I shake my head at his compliments, unable to share just how much that means to me. He thinks I’m gorgeous? I wish I could get the words out to tell him the same thing.

One hand gently touches my body, gliding its’ way from my navel to my nipples, stroking the small amount of hair on my chest along the way, while the other braces itself on my knee. Without warning, his mouth is on one of my nipples, gently sucking and licking the sensitive skin, while his fingers lightly stroke the other nipple. A gasp escapes from my throat and I close my eyes and bury my hands in his curly hair, pulling him even closer to me.  
The hand that was on my knee slowly glides up my thigh, almost hesitantly- as if he’s giving me time to say no. Not a chance of that now. This feels awesome and I don’t want it to stop. His hand reaches my crotch and he’s now well aware of how excited my body is because of him. God…my brain sputters as his hand gently strokes my manhood through my clothes. I must have moaned as his mouth and hands stop moving. I open my eyes to find him grinning at me, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He looks so beautiful when he smiles like that.

“Oh, husband, if I’d known how little it takes to excite you, I’d have wound you up to this point ages ago. Time to slow things down or you’ll be done before we’re anywhere near finished” he laughingly says.  
“Aww.. ok.” I pout slightly as I reply. I’m not wanting to stop now. I’m experiencing wonderful sensations that I don’t want to ever end.  
As though he’s reading my mind, he replies “we’re not stopping, it’s just time to swap places so you can learn how to give as well as receive.”  
As he finishes talking, he stands up, pulling me up with him. We stand there for a moment or two, just kissing gently, hands caressing each other’s faces. He then sits down where I’ve vacated, motioning for me to kneel in front of him. I take the hint and copy how he positioned himself.

My hands tremble slightly as I place one on his chest, which, up close and personal to it, I can see is covered with a fine layer of the same dark blonde hair that covers his head, just as I had wondered earlier. He gently places one of his over mine, which makes me look up at him. A shy smile on his face and his lips tremble with suppressed emotion. I smile slightly as my mouth captures one of his nipples and my hand caresses the other. “Oh, God, Apollo!” he groans out. The nickname now makes me grin as I busy myself learning a lover’s pleasure by sucking one nipple and grazing my fingers across the other. “Touch me” he begs. He doesn’t need to specify where now. I take one hand and place it on his knee, then slowly run it up his thigh to his crotch. He shudders gently at my touch, which makes me feel wonderful. My hand gently rests on his manhood, giving my brain time to get accustomed to deliberately touching another man this way. He feels roughly the same dimensions as me, but his manhood is straining at the fabric of his underwear, desperate for release. I can’t resist myself, so with a grin against his nipple, I remove my hand from his crotch and slowly put it up the leg of his underwear and gently touch him for the first time. His manhood is hard, yet soft at the same time and it feels wonderful to touch him. “Oh…. GOD!” rips from his mouth in reflex to this sudden change of feeling. “If you keep doing that, I’ll blow too quickly”.

With a sudden burst of confidence, I utter against his chest “I want to see you. All of you.” I look up at him and see that there’s now hunger burning in his eyes, which I’m sure is reflecting what mine are doing too, so I stand up and back off a few steps to give him room to get up from the bed. We keep our eyes on each other as we remove the last of our clothing, which for him takes no time at all, so he spends some moments gazing at me as I eventually get the suddenly stubborn buttons on my trousers undone to be able to remove them and my underwear.  
We’re still bathed in moonlight, so there’s plenty of light to see by, and I can now see him in all of his nakedness and he can see me in return. His manhood sticks out from him and seems to move with a mind of its own. I’m transfixed by this. I want to touch every last bit of him. I must have drooled slightly because he grins at me and responds “ditto to that. I want to draw you one day by the way, just like this.” Now I’m blushing madly. The thought of standing there naked while he draws me makes my breath catch.  
“You’re beautiful” I breathe at him.  
“Right back at you”, he retorts with a wink.

He steps towards me, carefully making sure that we don’t get wedged together awkwardly. He places one hand on my cheek and the other gently touches my manhood fully for the first time. I shudder at his touch as it feels wonderful to finally have someone want to touch me in this way.  
“What do you refer to your manhood as?” I ask shyly. “I’m not used to thinking crudely about body parts and I don’t want to get this wrong.” “Cock” is the succinct reply with a leery grin. Ok, cock it is.  
“Grantaire, I’m slightly embarrassed, but I’ve never even… you know…touched myself in that way” I admit quietly.  
“What, masturbated?” he responds, grinning slightly at my bashfulness about being crude.  
“Yeah… that.” I flush slightly as I respond. I really am a novice at all of this.  
“It’s a good job we’ve got the rest of tonight to teach you then” he retorts. “In essence, it’s simple. You just put your hand around your cock and stroke it until you orgasm.”  
Huh…? I know the theory behind it. I do remember some of my science lessons, but the art of it eludes me. I must still look confused as he grins at me, then in a gentler tone he relents “don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”  
He guides me back to the bed and pushes me gently backwards, so I end up flat on my back, with my now very erect cock pointing into the air. He slides onto the bed next to me so that he ends up on his side, with his cock lying on my thigh, which is still twitching and moving away to itself.  
“Stop thinking” he chides, as he can see my brain start trying to make sense of everything.  
“Yes, dear. Ow!” He lightly taps my hand for the attempt at sarcasm in my reply. He grabs hold of my right hand and places it on my cock, which feels natural as I’m used to doing this for relieving my bladder. He then places his own hand around the outside of mine, which makes my breath catch slightly. He starts gently moving our hands up and down in a rhythmic pattern. All the while, he’s talking softly to me, telling me very explicitly what he’d like to do to me while using his other hand to stroke his own cock against my leg, which is both ticklish and erotic at the same time and I can imagine him doing exactly what he’s suggesting. We do this for a while until my breath catches as unusual sensations start to tingle throughout my body. I can’t bear it anymore and a whimper comes out of my mouth from deep in my throat before I can stop it. He feels absolutely boiling next to me.

Before I can compose myself again, he shifts from my side to in between my legs. He bends my legs up so my knees are in the air, then pushes my thighs outwards until they’re flat against the bedclothes leaving my cock now very much exposed. He releases our hands from my cock, and, propping himself up on his elbows, takes the tip of my cock into his mouth and licks it gently before sucking on it. Oh my God, that feels incredible! He slowly opens his mouth and gradually takes more and more of my cock into his mouth, until his lips meet my groin and balls. He swallows slightly, which rips a groan from me. He gently bobs his mouth up and down on my cock for a bit, and with his free hand, he gently cups my balls. Without warning, I get a sensation of pleasure mixed with pain as one of his fingers probes the sensitive skin at my hole. A strangled cry comes out from my mouth and he releases my cock and quickly comes and kisses me hard on the mouth. I can taste myself on his lips and it tastes so weird, yet right, at the same time.  
“How does that feel?” He asks, seemingly desperate to hear me say it.  
“Wow! I can’t easily describe it, but it felt amazing. The last bit was painful yet awesome at the same time!” He grins at me, with an almost knowing smile forming on his face as if he’s heard this before.  
“Excellent. You want to feel some more?” he asks with a grin on his face. Boy, do I, but I also want to explore him for a bit. I smile back at him and reply “yes, but I want to taste you first. I want to see how you react to me.” A chuckle and a full smile and his face lights up. He really does look gorgeous when he smiles right the way to his eyes.  
“Ok. You want to switch places then?” he queries. He’s giving me the easy option to stay on the bed. I ponder for a moment.  
“Sure, unless you’ve got a better idea? If so I’m all ears.” I retort laughingly. Now he has to think for a bit.  
“Actually, I’d like to stand up for a bit, so if you sit up at the edge of the bed, we should get the right angle.” He replies as he muses about what he wants.  
“Ok” I agree. That was easy.

I shuffle myself around to get myself into a sitting position, but I’m slightly too high above his crotch area to be comfortably able to taste him, so I slide off the bed into a high kneeling position in front of him. This is perfect. My hands reach around and grab his buttocks to steady ourselves. I gently squeeze them, at which a small moan escapes from him.  
Mouth trembling, I press my lips to the tip of his cock. It quivers slightly in response. I glance up to see a look of absolute bliss on my husband’s face, so metaphorically taking the bull by the horns, I lick my lips and push his cock into my mouth. His hands entangle themselves in my hair and he groans loudly “Ugh, Enjolras, that feels so good!”

I take my time, making sure I try to not catch his cock with my teeth, but slowly and surely, I manage to take his cock all the way into my mouth. An approving groan meets me as I slowly bob my head, mimicking the same actions he was doing earlier. A light pressure as his hands in my hair helps me get a rhythm going. It feels weird to have so many different feelings and emotions at once and I can’t believe what I’ve been missing out on all of this time. Deciding quickly that I want to get the whole experience in one night, I continue the rhythm of my mouth on his cock, and, removing one of my hands from his buttocks, I find his hole and gently press on the sensitive skin at his entrance. A slight whimper from him makes me release the pressure. Inspiration strikes me. I bring my hand back to my mouth to get some saliva on my fingers. I quickly find his hole again and gently press my wet fingers against it. Another whimper and I push the tip of my finger inside him and his body contracts slightly in shock.  
“Oh, God, yes! That feels so good. You keep going like that and I’m going to come right here!” He yelps and gasps out, breathing very heavily.  
Further inspiration has me pausing and removing my mouth from his cock. A frustrated sound leaves his mouth in a rasp.  
“What did you stop for??” He questions and looks down at me, puzzled.  
“Because I want you…” I stop short as I’m suddenly struggling to put a sentence together.  
“What do you mean?” He asks as he’s even more confused now.  
“Hard to explain” I mumble, looking down as I get embarrassed with my thought process.  
“Just say it!” He exclaims softly, tilting my head up with his hand so that I have no choice but to look at him.  
Trembling slightly at his touch, I falteringly whisper “…. I want you to put your cock in my hole and then come….”  
“Wow!.... Are you sure you’re ready for this? It’s likely to hurt the first time as you’re not used to it” he answers after a moment's pause while looking shocked at me for being so bold.  
Deep breath, Enjolras. Just say it, so I do.  
“Yes. I want you to do it. I want to experience everything possible with you tonight. I’m aware it’s going to hurt.” A smile forms on his face.  
His eyes are now shimmering with tears at the level of trust I’m putting in him. “I’ll be as gentle as possible with you” he replies gently.

“Ok… what’s the best way for us to do this?” I ask after another moment's pause. Decision made, my brain goes into practical mode.  
He pulls me up off the floor and hugs me. His arms cross over my back so that one hand reaches my shoulder and the other caresses my buttocks. His kiss this time is deep but gentle. I feel a slight wetness on my cheeks as the tears in his eyes have fallen. I kiss all the drops that are left on his cheeks, surprised by the sweetness of them.  
“Lie on your back on the bed” he whispers. Sounds simple enough to me.  
Tenderly, he releases me from the hug and guides me back to where I had been laid previously, but this time it’s different. He rearranges my pillows to boost my ass higher off of the mattress. He pushes my knees to my chest and places himself back between my legs. He licks my cock once, which makes it quiver, and my breath catch, then his tongue finds my hole. Having expected his fingers, it feels weird, yet awesome when I feel his tongue licking at the hole instead. I jump at the sudden sensation.  
“I need to get you as wet and loose as possible, otherwise it’ll hurt more for both of us.” He says softly, almost as if he expected me to query what he’s doing.  
I breathe out and try to relax as his mouth and fingers go to work, loosening up my hole.  
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.  
“Nope, just lie there, keep breathing, and relax. You’re going to need it when I have my way with you” he replies with yet another leery grin on his face.  
It feels like I’m lying there forever, enjoying the feelings in my body as first one, then two, then three fingers slowly push into my hole. My body is trembling from the tension of pleasure and pain. I love it and can’t get enough, so much so, that I start pushing back against his fingers to try to get him moving faster. I sense his sudden nervousness as he suddenly stops and removes his fingers from me. He moves to a kneeling position between my legs, pulling them up so my knees are up near his chest, and prepares himself to enter me for the first time.  
“Last chance, husband,” he says, giving me a final opportunity to change my mind. My eyes fill at the tenderness he’s showing. So much difference from all of the aggravation we’ve been throwing at each other in the last few weeks before everything changed tonight.  
I nod my head at him and, half growling with emotion, say “do it. Push your cock into my ass and come.” He sighs blissfully at the very thought of this and I feel a shudder of pleasure run through him as he’s now leaning that close to me.

I feel my legs part slightly and pressure as his cock enters me. A cry of pleasure comes out of my mouth at how wonderful it feels to have him inside me for the first time with a gasp at the end of it as he pushes deeper into me, stretching me wider, and the tears that had gathered earlier slowly trickle down my face as I marvel at how wonderful everything feels.  
“Breathe out. It’ll make it easier.” He breaks my trance with a simple command.  
“Huh?” I’m confused.  
“Breathe out as I push in, breathe in as I pull out. Trust me, it’ll make things less painful” he encourages.  
He’s right. Within what feels like no time at all, he’s buried all the way in my ass as I feel his balls are now resting right against my hole. I try to sit up slightly to kiss him, to show him how much I love this, but his hand comes down gently on my chest and keeps me flat on my back.  
“Your muscles aren’t used to this type of exercise. Let me do the work this time. Besides, I want you in one piece later” he says gently.  
“Um” is the only coherent thought I have.  
With his hands now holding onto my hips, he slowly starts moving his cock in and out of my ass. I lose track of all the sensations running through me as he builds up a rhythm. I feel both powerful and powerless at the same time, which is an odd concept. A slight grunt makes me look at him. His eyes are closed and his face is flushed and full of concentration as he’s building to something I’ve not yet experienced. It’s time.  
“Grantaire!” His eyes open, a fierce look of passion all over his face. “I love you.” The first time I’ve been able to say the words to anyone in that way and it feels wonderful to be able to say it to him.  
“You would tell me now” he groans, as a rippling effect takes hold of his body and he starts shaking violently. With a strangled yell and a deep oath that sounds suspiciously like my name, his cock spasms inside me and I feel something liquid shoot up the inside of my ass. He goes almost boneless and would have fallen onto me had I not raised my arms to catch him. Deep breaths heave in and out of both of us and I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath while watching him. I so want to do this to him. I want him to feel what I’ve just felt.  
“Wow!” is the first thought either of us can put together. “You like?” He asks.  
“Yes.” The simplest word comes as I’m gathering myself. “I loved it. I love you.”

Kissing him gently, and giving him time to shift himself into a more comfortable position, I head for the bathroom to grab some cleaning supplies. My cock is still throbbing away, now making its presence very much felt.  
When I reappear in the bedroom, he’s resting comfortably. We clean him up and just cuddle for a while, my earlier unbidden image coming back to mind. I just want to stay like this for a while.

“So… how do you want to have your first orgasm?” He asks eventually.  
Hmmm. I ponder for a moment or two. Choices, choices. How do I want to receive pleasure? “I want to return the favour. I want to orgasm by coming in your ass” I finally tell him. Giving and receiving at the same time, I like the sound of that.  
He lays there and looks at me for a moment. A thought flashes across his face then disappears almost instantly.  
“Ok….but I have a confession to make first” he blurts out, sounding rather nervous all of a sudden.  
“What?” I reply, now rather puzzled. What else could he possibly have to confess?  
“I’ve never had someone in my ass before. I’ve always been the one doing the giving, male or female” he admits, now looking rather sheepishly at me.  
“So I guess I’ll be your first in that respect?” I ask after a few moments.  
A slight nod from Grantaire comes. “Yes,” he replies slightly gruffly, sounding rather emotional.  
My breath whooshes out as the implications of this sink in. While my husband has had sex before tonight, and with other men, he’s never been on the receiving end- only the giving. I’ll be the first person to give him pleasure in this way. The thought is a heady one. I’ve got to get this right then. Tenderly, I stroke his cheek to make him look closely at me.  
“Ok… so exactly how we just did it, but in reverse?” Again, the practical side of my brain engages.  
“Sounds like a plan” he acknowledges. Ok. I simply nod at him. I spend a few moments gently cradling him, then kiss his lips. “I’ll be gentle with you, my love.” At the term of endearment, his eyes lock onto mine and he sighs gently. “I love you Enjolras” he breathes.  
“I love you too” I reply.

While I’m now reluctant to leave his warm embrace, I move so that he can get comfortable on his back. I can feel his nervous energy and it gives me such an intoxicating feeling of power, that I get to do something to him that no one else has. I position myself between his legs and find his hole with my mouth. I start licking the whole area and I can feel his body tremble, almost as if he’s scared, but I quickly realise that it’s heavily suppressed emotion. I’m giving to him something that he’s not had before. I’m giving him the intimacy that he’s been craving from me all along. I glance up to look at his face and I see that his eyes are closed and he is breathing heavily. I stick several of my fingers in my mouth to get them wet. I place the tip of one at the entry to his hole, just lazily stroking it, just to see the reaction on his face and it’s a beautiful sight to see- his face screws up with longing. His hands grip the bedsheets and his breath becomes ragged.  
“Enjolras, please…. just, please?” He pants out, breath rasping. Hmm, he’s just as incapable of clear thoughts as I was at this point. I love it.  
I relent and slowly slide one finger into him, pausing when he inhales to give him time to adjust, just as he did for me. “Fuck…” He groans. Ooh, that’s a word I’ve not heard him utter before. I slowly pull my finger back out of him and compare it to the width of my cock. Hmm, a little way to go yet, so I get back to licking him, keeping him nice and wet as I add more fingers to the mix until he’s ready for me.  
I make sure my cock is soaking wet with my saliva before I push his knees apart to give me some room and gently guide my cock to the entrance of his ass.  
“God…yes! I’m ready for you” he pants. His face is flushed, but his eyes are alight with love and lust mixed together. “All the way in, no half measures” he continues. A quirky mixed metaphor which makes me chuckle, but I comply with his request.  
“I love you,” I repeat to him as I push into him for the first time. A single tear forms in his eye and runs down his cheek as he gets to experience the same feelings that I’ve already had. He groans and it’s a beautiful groan to hear this time. “That feels…. amazing!” I chuckle lightly at the wonder in his voice. “I love it…” Another chuckle and I busy myself with following his instructions from earlier, matching my push and pull with his breathing.

Once the tip of my cock is in his ass, it’s only a matter of minutes before I’m completely buried in him. With his superior core strength, he manages to sit up enough to kiss me and kiss me hard he does and says “I love you. You look so bloody gorgeous it hurts. I want it hard and fast. We’ve done slow and loving. I want to make you work for this.”  
“Are you certain? I don’t want to hurt you” I ask him. Not for worlds do I want to hurt him.  
“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, Enjolras” he retorts, “Do it. Make me scream!” Oh my... My cock seems to grow in size inside him, which causes a throb of pleasure to ripple through me.  
Our eyes ablaze with lust, I go to grab hold of his hips, but I become aware that his cock is hard again. How is that possible? Grabbing one of his hands, I guide it to his now erect cock. “I come in you, you come on us” I groan at him.  
Without waiting to hear whether he agrees to this, grabbing his cheeks, I kiss him with as much passion as I can, then I get a secure grip on his hips and start building a rhythm of thrusting deep within his ass. I feel by where his fingers graze against my navel as I end up balls deep in him that he’s matching me stroke for stroke. His lower legs lock around behind me and his free hand finds my hair again. He seems to like tangling his fingers in it. No matter, it keeps us close together. My thigh and buttock muscles begin to ache and burn from unusual usage before long. I then feel the tell-tale signs of something tightening and building, deep within me just as I had earlier on. He feels it too because he grunts at me “Just a little more. All the way, my beautiful husband. You’re almost there.” His eyes sparkle at me, then he kisses me hard again.

Abandoning all thought and concentration, I stop thinking consciously and begin to thrust hard and deep into him, simply savouring every little thing I feel. I hear Grantaire making all kinds of groaning noises, which means that he’s enjoying everything I’m giving him. A sensation builds up within me until I can’t control it anymore. A garbled oath and my first ever orgasm rips through me like a lash deep into my husband. At almost the same time, he screams my name in my ear as his orgasm lets loose and both of us are covered navel to shoulder by his sweet and salty semen. As my brain begins to function properly again, I sense him gently kissing my lips to bring me back to some form of reality.  
“Wow….!” Almost like a prayer and simultaneously, we breathe the word at each other, faces flushed from our exploits.  
I gently remove myself from him to allow us to clean up. It feels like we’ve been here for days, but I’m aware that it’s still a long way from dawn just by glancing at the clock on the wall. We’ve not even been here for three hours! Really? Time seemed to have stopped for us.  
I glance at him, he looks more relaxed now than I’ve seen him in months, and soberer too.  
“Now what?” I ask, somewhat lamely. He tilts his head at me and gives me a lopsided grin and replies “now we clean this place up and then we go to sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

Suiting action to word, we sort my hidey-hole out, and as we do so, I hear the faint sound of someone singing what sounds like a prayer outside in the distance. I can’t quite catch the words, but it sounds beautiful. It makes my heart ache.  
Put to rights once more, Grantaire takes my hand and leads me back to the bed.  
“What time do we need to be up?” he asks.  
I consider the clock again and calculate what time the sun is likely to rise. “Dawn, so 5 am” I reply softly.  
He sighs at me, almost as if he’s still conflicted about the coming day.  
“Dawn it is then” he breathes. At that, he opens up his arms for me to curl up with him under the bedclothes. We drop into oblivious sleep instantly.

Dawn comes with a bang and I try to sit up in bed. It was a dream. It must have been a dream, but what a beautiful dream it was. And so my addled brain thinks until I try to move and find myself gently pinned down by limbs that most definitely are not mine. As I gain my bearings again, I realise that it was most certainly not a dream. Grantaire is in bed curled up with me, wearing my Grandfather’s ring. We did actually get married and have hot and passionate sex. Heart singing, I spend a few minutes just looking at him. I eventually stroke his cheek, which gets a grumbling moan from him as he wakes up properly.  
“Urgh. Is it really time?” He questions as he stares at me, blue eyes bleary from sleep, curly hair going everywhere again, but this time in a rumpled, sexy way.  
I kiss him gently and say “yes my love. It’s time.”  
“No matter what happens today, I want you to know that I have no regrets.” He says gently as he pulls on the clothes that I deduce that he must have washed at some point while he showered as they look decidedly cleaner than when we arrived last night.  
“No regrets here either, husband.” He blushes scarlet at my response. It’s too cute.  
Once dressed and ready for the day ahead, we quietly lock up and start walking back, hand in hand. At peace with what’s to come.

We quietly make our way back to the barricade to find voices ringing out in consternation and utter pandemonium is breaking out amongst the group assembled there in front of the café waiting for us.  
“What’s going on?” I ask peremptorily as we arrive amongst the group of young men who are on the verge of full-on panic. Silence momentarily falls.  
“There you two are! We thought you’d been arrested! Isn’t Gavroche with you?” Many questions all come flying at us at once. Too many for my sleep-deprived brain to pick out individually.  
My left-hand raises to quell the clamour of voices, which mercifully fall silent as one. As I look up, they’re all looking at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Where’d the ring come from?” asks Joly. “It’s mine,” I reply brusquely, not wanting to reveal anything until I’ve got to the last question I heard. “Well, where’s the other one? I know you wore two on that necklet of yours” chimes in Courfeyrac. How did he know that? To my knowledge, no one had ever seen the rings before last night. A half glance across at Grantaire sees him giving me an encouraging nod. Deep breath.  
“Grantaire’s wearing it,” I tell them shortly. If I could describe the collective sound that erupted from the group, it would be similar to the bellows of an accordion being aired ready for playing.  
“What? Why? How?” Another held up hand silences the jumble of voices.  
“I’ll answer the questions, but let me ask one first- why do you ask about where Gavroche is? He should be right where we sent him last night” I inquire of them, with a bite in my voice.  
“We don’t know where he is” replies Marius, almost tearfully. “He was there when I collapsed in a heap after my watch, but when I woke, he’d gone.”  
“Right” I reply. Damn it- where did he run off to now? I needed him as everyone else is far too tall, let alone recognisable. He blends in so well that he’d never be noticed. “We can’t worry about that now. He’s like a cat with nine lives, that boy. He’ll find his way to us” I remark. “And to answer your second batch of questions.” A pause to glance at my husband, making sure he’s ok with me outing us and our new relationship as given his confession last night, I’m not sure if any of the others have any idea about his true sexuality. Another nod from him. “Grantaire and I had an argument last night, which after a long-winded conversation turned into us getting married.”  
“MARRIED! We didn’t even know either of you were gay!” Many voices clamour at the same time. My head hurts. We don’t have time for this!  
Ok. Deep breath. “Yes. We’re both gay, we’re together and we’re married” I inform them succinctly.  
As I see them taking stock of this, I quickly explain to them how I feel about Grantaire and he assures them that he feels the same way about me as we’re running out of time to get organised before the Army’s imposed deadline for our surrender. I then quickly reiterate the plan for the day, along with who needs to be where and when.

Bossuet’s quick ears pick up the sound of many feet heading in the direction of the barricade and eventually the rest of us hear it too. I risk a peek over the top of the barricade to find a sea of red and blue jacketed men armed and ready with rifles with bayonet attachments fitted, weapons trained on the barricade ready for us. There are many more than I’d anticipated. The people are still sleeping. No one is coming to join us. Grantaire was right- we are all going to die. The thought of losing my husband just as I’d found him breaks my heart into pieces.

As I’m about to launch into a rousing speech to my friends to encourage them in the face of death, despite seeing how vastly outnumbered we are, the manhole cover at my feet quietly pops open and Gavroche’s disheveled head appears. He looks and smells disgusting with all sorts of gunk coating what used to be a big mop of blonde hair. Where on earth has he been? He blinks at all of us as if he’s startled by the fact that it is daylight.  
Before we can all exclaim at him for him disobeying my orders to stay put, a clarion call comes across the air over the barricade. “Give up your weapons and surrender now. You’ll go to jail, but you’ll live.” That voice sounds pleasant. Maybe we can still get out of here alive.  
“It’s a lie!” hisses Gavroche at me. “We’ve been tricked. Lamarque is alive. This lot intends to kill us whether we surrender or not. I’ve got us safe passage, but we have to go now!”  
Crouching down so we can’t be heard, “Are you 100% certain of this?” I breathe at him, trying not to inhale the stench of whatever he’s coated in. “Lamarque’s alive? We’re going to die, surrendered, or not?”  
“Yes!” he replies. “I heard it from some of those guys as they were being marshaled to come over here – I was following in the shadows before I took to the underground routes. General Lamarque is holed up at the Bishop’s home, and this lot have been told that they’re here to kill us all off. Their grand plan is to arrest Lamarque afterwards and hang him as a traitor to the King based on the evidence of our rebellion against the Army. I took the hidden ways and got in to see Lamarque and the Bishop and spoke to them directly. If I can get us to them, Lamarque will smooth the whole thing out for us.”

I stand up and see my husband and my friends looking at me. They’re linked to me by love, honour, fidelity, and friendship. My heart breaks wide open as I realise that there’s no way out of this anymore. Certain death awaits us here, regardless of whether we surrender or not. If there’s even a slim possibility of us surviving this without further harm or loss of life, I owe it to these men, who’ve followed me and this group I started for so long, to take that chance, rather than condemn us all. It takes only a heartbeat to choose life.  
“We’re coming out. Don’t shoot!” I shout over the barricade.  
Seeing the shocked faces looking at me, horrified at the thought that I’m about to get us all killed, I quickly point to the manhole cover and start signalling for them to climb down. “Lead the way Gavroche,” I whisper. One by one, they climb down the hole into the sewers below the streets of Paris. I’m the last one to go down and I gently slide the manhole cover silently back into its place over my head. Hopefully, it’ll keep our cover intact long enough to get some distance on the Army when they work out that we’re not coming out and they start looking for us.

Gavroche guides us to a small dry area off of the main sewer network. Barely breathing the words, he tells us “don’t speak unless you absolutely must. Sound travels for miles down here and not everything and everyone down here is friendly. Stay out of the water too. It’s disgusting. I’ll guide the way!” We gently haul him to the front of the group so that he can lead us to safety. I place myself at the rear to keep a watchful eye and ear out for anyone following us. Hand in hand, hugging the walls of the sewers, we walk in a chain underneath the city streets, wincing as we catch gunk coming from the downpipes and trying not to inhale anything other than air. Gavroche is right. It truly is disgusting down here. We walk for what feels like hours and see no one at all. (We learned later that it was only 40 minutes from the barricade to the Bishop’s home.) Our eyes gradually get used to the dark. So much so, that it’s easy to see when Gavroche eventually stops at an unusual marking on the wall. I wonder what it means?

“I made this mark earlier, to remind myself of the entry and exit point. It’s gonna get really messy from here as we have to climb, and this hole wasn’t designed as a regular manhole” he breathes, stopping every few words to make sure his voice didn’t carry. I catch a whole bunch of winces as the implication of what we are about to be climbing up through hits the group. A load of rich boys climbing to safety through a large downpipe. Urgh. Instinctively, I carefully make my way to the front of the line. Leaders lead, and this lot needs me to step up and lead now, regardless of how much gunk comes down at us. Gavroche leads the way again. “I’ll need to go up first to make sure that there’s room at the top for all of us.” He remarks.  
“Lead on then” I breathe at him. And so he does.  
As we start climbing, I feel a pair of hands land gently on my buttocks. Looking down, I see Grantaire impossibly close behind me and he’s grinning at me, his face covered in gross gunk. For some reason, it soothes me and gives me renewed strength to keep climbing up.

One by one we end up at the top of the chute, which leads into a small outhouse. Carefully we all climb out, but it’s rather cozy. Gavroche is grinning at us and as I look around, I’m finding it hard to tell my friends apart with them all covered in muck. This could turn out to be rather useful. No one in their right mind would think we were the students from the barricade, all covered in the worst of the Paris sewers.  
“Did you remove the marker?” A sardonic glance from Gavroche tells me that this was a needless question from me. He’s not survived on the streets for this long without knowing a thing or two about how to move about without being noticed.

After checking that the coast is clear, Gavroche leads us through the shadows of the Bishop’s garden to an area that looks like it’s impossible to get beyond. As we look quizzically at him, he taps on a seemingly random collection of bricks. A light series of clanking noises can be heard from the other side of the wall and a hidden doorway almost magically opens inwards from it. A man in robes stands there looking at our rather bedraggled group.  
“Gavroche! Stop standing there and get your friends indoors before they catch their deaths from a cold!” The man exclaims.  
“Yes, Monseigneur” replies Gavroche respectfully, bobbing his head rapidly, while being careful not to shake gunk onto those expensive-looking robes of the Bishop.  
“There are plenty of washrooms for you all to clean up in and plenty of warm clothes too since Roque told us how many were coming to visit” remarks a new voice. Roque? That’s a pet name for our favourite urchin we’ve not heard being used before.  
We all swing round open-mouthed to see two men. One is the man himself, General Lamarque. The man whose revolutionary cause I took up to try to make France free. The other man looks oddly familiar, but I can’t place him for the time being.

We follow the Bishop to a host of washrooms that, while sparse in decoration, are well-appointed with everything we need to stop smelling like the sewers, all the while trying desperately to not coat his home with all the gunk we’re tracking through. My friends push me into one, remarking that as leader of our group, it’s urgent that I converse with Lamarque as soon as possible. Grantaire and I have ended up stood together and we look longingly at each other. We want to embrace now that we’ve reached safety, but, remembering whose house we’re in, we silently agree not to. With that, I take my friends’ advice. Shutting the door, stripping off my filthy clothes and putting them in the refuse sack that was obviously left for them to go in, and, getting in the tub, I wash away the smell of gross stuff and all of the gunk and sewage I’m coated in. A light tap sounds on the door and before I can answer, Grantaire joins me in the room.  
“Don’t worry, I’ve not come to take advantage of you” he whispers. “I’m just here to be close to you.” He’s somehow managed to wash his face and hands and is holding a towel for me to use to dry myself off.  
The simplicity in the statement makes my heart ache for his touch. Stepping out of the tub into the towel, I gently embrace him. Kissing him tenderly, I quickly get dressed into the new clothes laid out for me so that he can rinse off the rest of the gunk he’s coated in and clean himself up. There’ll be time enough later for us to be intimate. Of that, I’m suddenly confident.  
“Make sure you change the placement of the ring,” he says, somewhat sadly from behind me.  
“Why? Whose business is it of anyone else’s where I wear my ring?” I reply, forgetting for a moment where we are.  
“Because this is France, it’s the 1830’s. You walk out there with the ring where it is, they’ll ask you where your wife is. When you turn around and say you’re married to a man, they’ll throw the lot of us out onto the streets and leave us at the mercy of the Army that is surely now aware that we’ve abandoned the barricade and will be hunting for us. We’ll all be dead within hours. While being gay isn’t something they can punish us for, being “married”, they most certainly can!”  
“Ah… Good point. I’ll pop it onto the other hand. That way we’re staying true to our vows, but not dishonouring the person whose house we’re in.” Suiting action to word, I remove my ring from my left hand and place it on my right with a wrenching in my heart and a sick feeling in my stomach that I’m having to hide myself and my newfound relationship away when it’s only just begun.

Fully dressed in new clothing, I quietly exit the washroom and almost literally stumble over the Bishop, who is standing there waiting for me.  
“Why are you trying to hide your relationship with the other young man from us?” He asks somewhat quizzically.  
“Forgive me, Bishop… I…” I start stammering, trying to come with some logical explanation for mine and Grantaire’s behaviour at, briefly, sharing a washroom.  
“We saw the rings the two of you are wearing the moment you arrived, and the way you looked at each other confirmed it. You don’t need to change where you wear your rings for us” he says gently. He’s noticed I’ve moved it. How is that possible when it seemed covered in gunk the last time he saw me? “We’re not here to judge a monogamous relationship, regardless of the genders of those involved.”  
Huh. I blink at him wordlessly. I thought Bishops were only supposed to approve of heterosexual relationships. Clearly I was mistaken.  
“Put your ring back where it belongs and be who you are meant to be, not who you think we’re expecting you to be.” He smiles at me as I place the ring back on my left-hand ring finger and I feel an overwhelming sense of peace fall on me.  
“Tell your husband that your “secret” is safe in this house” he finishes with another smile and walks off, leaving me staring open-mouthed after him.  
Ducking back into the washroom, I quickly relate all of this to Grantaire, who is as shocked as I am by the turn of events. We briefly kiss and return our rings to their rightful place.  
Buoyed by this new-found knowledge and confidence, I walk out into the sitting area to officially meet General Lamarque.

As my husband and friends gradually join us, clean and dry again, we attempt to explain to General Lamarque how we ended up in this situation. We then spend a while arguing back and forth from all angles about what we wanted to achieve and how we want to proceed next. This was getting livelier, when Gavroche reappears, looking decidedly cleaner than my last vision of him. He looks incredibly sad and weary. All conversation stops as we look upon our young friend, confused about his demeanour as he’s usually the most cheerful person in the world. He drops into the remaining seat with a deep sigh.  
“Roque, I’m truly sorry to hear that your sister is no longer with us,” remarks the man whose name I’ve yet to learn, as he turns from the fireplace.  
Sister? Gavroche had a sister? Why didn’t we know? We all look at each other, blank faces all around.  
He looks slightly sheepish at us. He starts speaking, falteringly at first  
“She swore me to secrecy. If our father knew that both of us were involved with you, he would’ve tried to use us to gain access to the group and he would’ve betrayed you all for money, status, or power. When she got shot, I wanted to tell you everything, but she forbade it. She chose to die in Marius’s arms, seemingly alone in the world to protect us, rather than letting me any closer than I was and risk my life, let alone all of yours. My family will know by now, as we had to leave her behind when we left the barricade.”  
Realisation dawns on us all as we realise he can only be talking about Éponine. No wonder he was so weepy when she died. Watching his sister die in front of him without being able to comfort her as her brother, must have been absolute agony for him. My heart twists for him in sympathy.  
“I’m so sorry Gavroche. If I’d been aware of this, I wouldn’t have been so harsh with you last night.” He sniffles at me as I gently apologise to him.  
“It’s ok. You couldn’t have known. Besides, if you had, it would’ve put you all at risk from him and his gang of thugs” he mumbles back.  
“Who is your father Gavroche?” Grantaire asks, somewhat warily. We all wait with bated breath. Who on earth could be so dangerous that both Gavroche and Éponine didn’t want us to know about their being siblings?  
“My father is Thénardier. The thief, conman, thug and cheat.” A chorus of gasps runs around the group as we work out just how right Gavroche is. Thénardier would’ve turned us over to the Army without blinking if he thought there was something in it for him.

“What’s with the nickname Roque, anyway?” Marius queries as he turns to address the unknown man “We’ve never heard him be called that before”.  
“I’ve known of Gavroche for a while, and the nickname was a safer way to address him when out and about, to help him protect him and myself from his father’s notice. If his father had worked out who I am, he wouldn’t have hesitated to turn me in to the authorities, given my run-in with him many years ago” he replies as if it was obvious.  
“Who are you anyway?” The question comes from my mouth before I can even stop it.  
“Who am I? Now that’s a very long story for another day. Suffice to say, Marius, I’m glad you’re alive. My daughter will be pleased” he replies, eyes twinkling at us, waiting to see if the penny drops.  
“You’re Cosette’s father?” squeaks Marius. “Yes,” he replies. “Is she ok??” The question rolls off of Marius’s trembling lips.

Before we get an answer, a furious hammering on the front door stops all of us cold in our tracks.  
“Lamarque! We know the rebels are in there with you. Hand them over and you get to live!” shouts a voice that sounds very familiar. It sounds eerily like Inspector Javert. How is that possible? How could he know where we are? He’s supposed to be dead!  
“Have no fear my young comrades. Everything will be fine” says General Lamarque.  
Standing up to his full height, he walks to the door and flings it wide open. Standing on the doorstep is the prefect of police- the highest officer in France, Henri Gisquet, with Inspector Javert at his right hand along with a crowd of police officers. Javert looks disheveled but slightly smug. We sit there very uneasy. Have we gone through all of this to be betrayed at the last moment? How is Javert still alive? We handed him over to be killed!

“Well, Lamarque. What are we going to do to calm the Army down? This lot has left a right mess on the streets.” Gisquet remarks this rather jovially and walks into the room. Javert and the officers around him look stunned. So do we.  
“It’s ok, my young revolutionaries. This man is a friend. Goodbye Inspector Javert.” Lamarque closes the door in his shocked face. “Now, where were we? Ah yes, how to placate the Army, yet keeping these folks out of jail.” He continues, a winning smile on his face.  
We sit there, very confused. We expected there to be consequences for our actions, but the possibility of avoiding jail altogether isn’t one we have considered, considering a short while ago we were contemplating death.  
“Well Lamarque, there needs to be some consequence for the chaos they’ve caused around the Rue de Vallette, but given they were acting on misinformation, and I will find out who spread the rumour of your death by the way; I think a simple enough punishment of returning the barricade to its component parts and those parts being returned to their rightful homes should be enough to keep them occupied for a while. Not forgetting the handing over to yourself or a representative, all of the weaponry and ammunition they ingeniously stockpiled right under the Army’s nose” Gisquet replies.

Dumbfounded we sit there in shock as the very mild punishment is laid out before us. Gisquet and Lamarque sit there laughing at us as they realise that we aren’t following their thought process.  
“Don’t you realise, my young friends, that you were victims of a horrible rumour? I never was dead, not even ill, but someone close to my friend here had the wherewithal to make it appear that I was” explains Lamarque kindly. “I’ve been following your social justice movement for quite a while now. As soon as word got to me that I was apparently dead and you had taken the rumour seriously and launched a revolt against the Army, we met up very quietly and decided that we needed to find a way to get you out alive. The Army had taken you to be a real threat to France, and not even my friend here could stop them from executing you all as traitors. Gavroche came in very handy when he came to see the Bishop last night to seek comfort after losing his dear sister. We made it clear to him that you all had to leave the barricade and get here to be safe.”  
“So who is the one who betrayed you?” I ask the men. “We’re still not sure” comes the reply. “We know it’s someone who is well placed to both the politicians and to the military, and we will eventually unearth who they are. I promise that they will be held accountable for Éponine’s death as well as all the chaos that has ensued.”

“So what happens now?” I ask as no one else wants to ask the obvious question.  
“Well, I probably ought to go and take Javert and the policemen off of the Bishop’s doorstep. By now, the King will have called off the Army. I have letters of pardon all named and signed by His Majesty for you all” Gisquet informs us all.  
“Pardons??” A shocked gasp runs around the room. We’d not considered that at all. We all assumed that we would carry some form of criminal record because of our behaviour.  
“Yes, pardons. Just in case you get stopped on the way to your homes” he retorts.  
It starts to filter into our minds that it’s over, we’re free. As awareness becomes true understanding, we all start weeping as the strain of the past few days finally drains away.  
As we start to hug each other, glad to know that we’re all alive, Gisquet and General Lamarque quietly leave us to it, leaving our pardons with the Bishop to hand to us once we’ve all come to our senses, along with a way to contact General Lamarque should we need his advice on social justice in the future.

“How is Javert still alive?” Jehan asks a little while later.  
“That’s a good question” I reply. “We handed him over to a man with a grudge against him to be executed after Gavroche ratted him out.”  
“Well, that would be down to me.” We look round to Cosette’s father, all slightly stunned at what he’s just said.  
“How is Javert still alive?? What’s going on?” The questions get hurled at him almost simultaneously.  
“Patience, my young friends as this gets complicated,” he remarks. “Cosette and I lived next door to the Bishop for many years while she was growing up and we became good friends, then we moved to just down the road a few months back. We’ve been hiding from Javert and the authorities for years, completely due to my chequered history with the law. We’ve been on the run for years. We, being myself, Lamarque and the Bishop, learned of what was going on when Javert came for confession yesterday as he was conflicted about what he was being asked to do by his boss, which was effectively to go undercover in order to break up your group and have you all executed as traitors, contrary to what Gisquet had commanded the police to do, which was to simply have you all arrested and taken to the police station where this could all be quietly sorted out. When we unearthed the full story and that his cover was about to be blown by Gavroche, I volunteered to join your ranks under-cover to get Javert out so that he could continue his mission. Javert has actually been feeding the Army bad intelligence on General Lamarque’s behalf all along, trying to stop another all-out civil war in France. Javert is certainly not the traitor but is on the trail of them as we speak. We suspect that the traitor is someone in the chain between Javert’s boss and Gisquet, so it’s only a matter of time before we find them. I was the one you handed Javert over to. I shot at him to make it seem like he was dead. I then slipped away after you thanked me, to keep watch over the barricade, in-case the Army came up with anything unexpected that you hadn’t planned for.”

“You were the voice I heard singing last night!” I exclaim as the pieces fall into place. Everyone else looks slightly puzzled at me. Evidently they hadn’t heard the same singing I heard.  
“I was indeed” he replies. “I was fully prepared to lose my life, so long as you were all safe and well. When I overheard from some of the soldiers that the Army were going to kill you all anyway, I quickly made it back here to update Lamarque and the Bishop and once I realised Roque was here too having sought comfort and that he’d given them the same information having picked it up along the way, we realised that we had to send him back to you through the sewers rather than the conventional route with instructions to get you all here safely.  
As for me, I received a pardon from His Majesty for all my prior crimes as well, as I was prepared to lay my life down to get you all out alive, regardless of the consequences for me when the Army or Javert’s colleagues found me again and worked out who I am.”  
We all sit there, enthralled as he lays out the story of what was going on around us as we were preparing to fight at the barricade and then our flight from it. It doesn’t seem real that we came so close to death, but that there were also people who were looking out for us and fighting with words and doing a lot of planning on our behalf. We spend a while processing all of this information. Javert is actually a good guy after all but was being bad to try and lure out the traitor. Who knew? Clearly he was acting stunned earlier so as not to blow his continued cover in front of his fellow officers as that could mean that the person who gave the order for our execution never being found.

After a few more hours, Marius makes the first move to go, leaving with Cosette’s father (we eventually learned his name to be Valjean) to be reunited with her, with a promise to bring her down to the barricade to help clean up and pay tribute to his lost friend.  
The rest of the group gradually leave the Bishop’s house with their pardons and promises to keep in touch and make their way back to the barricade to start work tidying up after ourselves.  
Finally, it’s just Grantaire and I left with the Bishop and Gavroche.  
“Now, my young friends, what do you two plan to do?” he asks us.  
“We hadn’t got that far. I’m still amazed that we’re still actually alive.” I admit.  
“Well, Gavroche is staying here with me as it’s safer here than out on the streets for him. He’ll be fine and we’ll get him the education he needs to be an even more useful member of society” says the Bishop.  
“You ok with that Gavroche?” I ask.  
“Well, it beats attempting to locate my father and digging him out of the drunken stupor that he’ll be in after Éponine’s death. He’ll be furious with me for not getting in contact and selling you all out in the first place, so I’d rather avoid him for a very long time” he remarks bluntly.  
Having only met the man a few times and having been witness to his and his gang’s vile behaviour, I can’t blame the lad.  
“You know where we’ll be if you need anything,” says Grantaire, having been silent up until now.  
“Sure thing. I’ll find you guys at some point soon” he murmurs in reply.  
“Well, we’d best be heading back to the barricade to help the others start dismantling them,” I remark.  
“My door is always open to you, especially if you want to formalise your relationship” replies the Bishop with a smile.  
“We’ll be back, and we’ll certainly think about your kind offer. Thank you Monseigneur” replies Grantaire. We take our leave, we’re holding hands, with our pardons safely secured, rather stunned by the offer from the man of God to officially recognise our relationship. This bears much thinking about at a later hour. We never thought that this would be possible.

We walk back towards the barricade, taking in the view of Paris in peacetime.  
“I don’t know about you, husband, but I fancy going back to bed for a few hours to catch up on some of the sleep we didn’t have last night” Grantaire remarks, glancing sideways at me to see my reaction at being called “husband” in public. I blush slightly, then start chuckling at him.  
“Much as I’d love to, dear, we owe it to the local residents to undo some of the damage we’ve caused to their livelihoods and their street” I reply.  
He acquiesces and we walk back down to the Rue de Vallette, to find our friends there waiting for us. It takes far less time to deconstruct the makeshift barricade than it did to put it together in the first place. As we make great headway in taking down the barricade (the majority of it, having, in fact, come from the café, didn’t have far to go to be returned to its’ rightful place), the local residents come and talk to us to find out what’s going on. As we explain the whole series of events and the eventual outcome, our movement gets more support than its’ ever had before, with a good chunk of them even lending us a hand to return the street to its previous state.

Once the street is gleaming again (or as close as it would get to gleaming), we piled into the café where it all started. We met up with one of General Lamarque’s representatives who took away all the weapons and stuff we’d acquired in the name of justice. Even he was shocked at how much we had stockpiled in such a short amount of time.  
“So, you two love birds. Tell us how you two went from butting heads with each other over every little thing to being married within the space of less than a day!” Bahorel begs us after several hours of discussing the events that overtook us all. “And how are you still standing Grantaire, given you can’t have had a drop of alcohol since last night since we’ve not had time to stop to restock the café?”  
“Well…” Grantaire grins at them all. “I’d love to be able to tell you about everything we got up to, but that would be revealing way too much about my husband.”  
“Aww…” comes in a chorus all around us. “We want details!” “Cute!”  
I rise, slightly wobbly now, having been sat down for so long, and with Grantaire having been practically sat on my lap, my legs have gone to sleep.  
“You aren’t getting any details, so you’ll just have to figure it out for yourselves. Meanwhile, I’m going to bed and taking him with me” I say as I grab hold of his hand, gently pulling him towards the door, not wanting to embarrass us any further. A chorus of groans and heckles follows us.  
Before I can pull him out of the door, he pulls back harder and I stumble backwards into him and end up nose to nose with him again. How it all began. He grins at me, then places his hands on my cheeks and pulls me in for the first kiss in front of the people I would come to call my family in the years to come. Oblivious to the wolf-whistles and cheers resounding throughout the café, I let go of my inhibitions somewhat and kiss him back, embracing my future with open arms.

Ten months later, we’re back up at the Bishop’s quarters witnessing Marius and Cosette getting their happy-ever-after white wedding and saying our final goodbyes to Valjean, who peacefully passed away not long afterwards. Grantaire and I are now married in the eyes of the church, having had a commitment ceremony conducted by the Bishop at his quarters, surrounded by our friends; despite it not yet being legal for us to be officially married in the eyes of the law- that day will come, I’m sure of it. We’re now living in the hidey-hole house where our relationship began. To our complete surprise, not one person living in the local area even blinked about our relationship. It was as if we’d always been together and that we’re a “normal” couple.

In contrast, my parents, somewhat unsurprisingly, refuse to accept that they will never get grandchildren and are now refusing to speak to me, nor do they accept our relationship. Do we care? Not really. My trust fund got cut off when I refused to end our relationship to marry a woman and give them the grandchildren they so obviously desire.  
We’ve not been left without income though. Grantaire went back to the art world and is a roaring success. So much so that we ended up buying the houses either side of ours and converted them into one big house so that we have plenty of room for his workshop as well as plenty of space to accommodate our friends when needed.  
He did get to draw me naked in the moonlight, by the way. In fact, he had to do a second version of it for us to keep because the original was spotted and bought by one of the largest art galleries in Paris for a significant sum of money- along with an offer of representation for any of his future works!  
As for me, General Lamarque recommended me to a colleague of his who works in a law firm. I now get paid to take on social justice cases for people who wouldn’t normally be able to afford representation!  
It’s been a balancing act for us, though. Between our odd working hours, we’ve had to make time to spar with each other and have the rest of the groups over as well as time to just be alone and intimate with each other, spending time getting to know each other as equals as well as lovers.

Two months later and the anniversary of our mini revolution rolled around. Grantaire woke me up, screaming in his sleep about us all dying and him being left alive alone, but was completely oblivious of the whole thing the next morning. It happened again the next year and the next. Joly, now being a qualified doctor, spent time questioning both of us and promptly diagnosed him with having “night terrors”, which is hard for us to grasp, let alone accept, given how strong he seems when he’s awake. Joly surmises that the strain that we all went through from the sewer walk to the pardoning affects Grantaire more than anyone else because he’s so artistically minded that his imagination runs wild when he sleeps.  
Grantaire’s fully sober now too. He says that it's the power of his love for me that is stronger than his need for alcohol. He’s not touched a drop since our first night together. I’m immensely proud of him, but I dare not mention that in public as he just gets embarrassed and swiftly changes the subject.

Oh yes, Gavroche is now living with Grantaire and I. Between our eclectic group of friends, despite settling down into their own relationships, we’ve given him the family he deserves rather than the one he grew up in until he was thrust out onto the streets. He’s done incredibly well with his schooling, exceeding his own expectations regarding capability. He’s decided to train up as a doctor, so we’ll have another in the group in a few years! He seems happy enough on the surface for the majority of the time, although he does have his moments of melancholy when the anniversary rolls around.  
Thénardier and his gang eventually met their comeuppance when they tried to break into one of the largest hotels in the area. They all got arrested and are now in jail with very long sentences, so at least Gavroche doesn’t have to worry about seeing him again any time soon.

Javert, Lamarque, Gisquet, and the Bishop eventually tracked down the traitor by the way. It was one of Lamarque’s assistants! It turns out that they’d been blackmailing one of the local priests for confessions that he could use against influential people and had long harboured a desire for Lamarque’s prestige and position. The priest was reassigned, having been severely censured by the church for not reporting his transgressions. What became of the assistant, we do not know but suffice to say, his fate is being kept a closely guarded secret.

Grantaire sighs in his sleep, curled up in a ball next to me as I finish yet another piece of parchment telling our tale. A whimper comes from him, then a cry. I shake him hard enough to disturb his sleep pattern and to make his curls shake. Putting the parchment and quill down, I burrow under the bedclothes to curl up with him.  
“Sshh…. You’re thinking too hard” quoting the line he said to me long ago. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving.” Rolling him over, I kiss him as we get tangled up together. He stirs slightly and smiles dream-like at me.  
“Come here and say that again,” he says sleepily. So I do and he drifts back into now dreamless sleep. I follow shortly after, content with my life.


End file.
